He is escorted through the castle, a fellow Disciple either side of him. Their shadow magic is reduced here, they keep it tight. The shadows form to their skin, black armour that swallows light. Only the faintest tendrils billow about them, but there is no mistaking they are of the Night Order. Their sigils blaze atop their brows and form a triad of half moons as they move together in an arrow point. 


The throne room glimmers as the doors are thrown open. Light pours upon them and again Tenebrae dampens down his magic, holds the ravages of his hunger and not a ray of light is swallowed here. The shadows about his torso are a yawning chasm so deep and dark they are.


He has not met the newly ascended queen, yet he recognises her instantly. The Disciples genuflect before her. Tenebrae’s brow lowering, his eyes closing. Duty had brought the monks here, loyalty to their goddess and every sovereign who rules Denocte.


Tenebrae rises from his bow and respect sings through every muscle in his torso. Slowly his white-gold eyes lift to hers, they gleam as moonlight in the lights of the throne room. “Your majesty,” he says, voice low and smooth as whiskey. “We have come to congratulate you on your ascension. For years the Night Order have pledged our allegiance to the Night Court Sovereign in honour of our vow to Caligo. We come today to uphold that and pledge the Night Order to your service.”


His voice echoes, caught in the corners of the lavish room. When the last word trails off only then does Tenebrae speak again, his eyes upon the sapphire of Queen Antiope’s. The red drops beneath her eyes gleam like rubies in the glow of his gaze. This queen is exotic, she is dangerous with the shaded tiger prints across her body. “My name is Tenebrae, your Majesty.”


@Antiope <3 excited to write with you :) 

 


She had been looking up when he entered with his brothers. Her sights had been upon the dome of illuminated glass that sat nestled into the stone ceiling of the throne room. Outside the sun is setting, shadows lengthening and yet the dome, held high within the heart of the castle, catches the final rays of sunlight. It’s light pours down upon the floor below. It is liquid colour, utterly vivid and yet, untouchable. 


He stops within its pooled light and feels the way the awakening stars peer down through the glass. They look upon his spine - do they see the criss cross of scars there? The whipmarks of a sinner, some more fresh than others. He continues to sin, being a monk, he is rapidly learning, makes him no more righteous than any other mortal. He was young and foolish to ever think otherwise. On the floor about him is the reflected colours of the glass, a myriad of colours, artfully painted, each one seen in the setting of the sun.


Tenebrae wonders what the new queen had seen there, what the glass had witnessed over many years. Its secrets must be plentiful. This throne room is a place of secrets and truths, of harsh rulings and yet compassionate decisions too. 


From every corner Caligo whispers to him, the shadows of his magic reach out and blend with others shadows. The crimson ribbons of the queen catch in an small draft and sway as she slowly lowers her gaze to focus upon Tenebrae and his Disciple brothers. His eyes lower from hers in servitude.


Tell me what it is that the Night Order do? She asks of him. His magic swells in answer, it drifts bold, bolder than it should, up towards where she stands. All shadows breath with the Disciples, in and out, in and out. It is melodic. 


“We dedicate ourselves to Caligo. In times like this, in times of peace, our work is focussed upon Denocte, helping where we can, wherever you will ask us to be. We worship Caligo and aim to discern her bidding for us.” Tenebrae trails off, the deep of his voice fading into the golden light of the room. It is as rich as whiskey and is deeper yet when he continues, “If peace should ever fail we vow to align ourselves with you, Sovereign of the Night Court.” 


If the queen sounds surprised by his devotion to Caligo, Tenebrae does not show that he has noticed. There are many who are turning from the gods, many who have found them fickle, shallow and distasteful. WHat have the gods ever done for Novus? For Tenebrae, his mere existence is because of Caligo’s creation. “Caligo made the first of us and the Order are the descendents of them. We vow to her because we love her and because she is, ultimately, our creator.”


And Tenebrae does not blink, not even when the words feel more brittle on his tongue than they ever have before. Oh he loves his goddess, he has vowed himself to her more tightly than his very existence, but he can feel where that bond is fraying, where living and wanting have worried at those threads. Tenebrae is coming apart even as he ties himself together piety, tighter, tighter, tighter.



@Antiope  :) 

 


Tenebrae does not know the doubts that drift into his queen’s mind as he genuflects before her with head lowered. He looks to the floor in respect, yet even if he had looked up at her, he may not have known how such a gesture did not sit so well within Antiope. 


But what if he did know of her thoughts? What if he knew how she thought him submissive? Antiope does not wish for her citizens to bow out of submission or perceived obedience… Maybe the monk would smile at his queen’s concerns for it is not mindless obedience nor meek submission that sees the monk bending the knee before his monarch. No. Tenebrae does not bow just to Antiope, but to the very thing that she represents: Denocte. It is love that bends his knee, it is joy and desire that has him pledging himself to her command. 


The monk is just a soldier, set apart from any other Denoctian soldier only by his devotion to his goddess. It is Caligo he serves above all and maybe the truth of it is this: Would the Night Order go to war with Denocte herself if ever there was dispute between Caligo and her Court? Yes, of course. But it would not be without pain and distress in their hearts.


Yet Tenebrae knows none of the thoughts that pass behind Queen Antiope’s sky blue eyes. They pass like birds upon the wing, fleeting as the shadows that dance along the crimson ribbon hanging from her slender neck.


“I am well versed in the ways of the military. All Disciples are trained for many years before Caligo grants us worthy of seeing any active service.” He remembers the awakening of the sigils upon his brow, his shoulders. They glow brighter in remembrance. Their burning is a phantom recollection across his skin. 


Antiope suggests they speak alone and Tenebrae nods, shadows stirring like smoke with the movement. A smile turns up the corners of his lips, warm and grateful. “They would appreciate that, Your Majesty. It would be a pleasure to speak with you alone.” The Disciple does not move as the sharp of her gaze draws across his skin. Behind him his brother’s retreat, darkness trailing in their wake. Tenebrae feels the cleaving of his own magic, its weakening as his brothers depart. 


“I have had the honour of meeting your Emissary. Moira Tonnerre spent time with my brothers at our monastery a short while back.” Tenebrae says in passing as he waits for the Queen to direct him to a room where they might further their conversation.



@Antiope  <3

 

Tenebrae follows his queen across the throne room. His brothers leave, the sound of their footfalls hushed as they sweep out the main doors. Instantly the room is brighter without their shadows there to blot out light. 


The monk’s own shadows are restrained, they wrap about his torso like armour, falling from his shoulders akin to a cape. Yet they do not reach out into the room, he does not allow their hunger to grow, though it longs to. His magic yearns to reach out into the light of the room and pluck each ray out of existence.


Antiope leads them into a smaller room. It is more casual, quieter, the closer walls muting echoes in a way the throne room did not. In the darkness, the crimson of her ribbons reminds him so much of Maeve. Yet where the child’s ribbons were that of fire, Antiope’s seem to suggest something more tribal. 


His Sovereign speaks of war and Tenebrae dips his head in agreement, a small grin slipping across his lips. Darkness plays in the corner of such a smile. There is no part of him that the darkness does not press upon. Shadow magic is in his bones, it is knit into his ever tissue. “And that is a blessing, my Queen. Long may that continue to be the case. Though we train for it, we hope to never have to see it.” The Night Order always seeks peace. It is foolish of any Court to not be ready for war, as the veil of civilisation is thin, it can rupture so devastatingly fast. Tenebrae and his brothers longed to never see beyond that paper-thin veil.


“Though war is absent, I can offer protection and maintain order for your citizens. Often too, residents of both Denocte and the other Courts have come to us seeking counsel. The monks are known for being studious, careful and wise with our advice. We can offer such to your warriors and citizens alike. I suppose, my Queen, the question is what I can do for you. What roles are vacant in Denocte that you would like me to help fill? It would be an honour to serve you and my Court in any way I can.”


@Antiope  <3